


Vigilante Justice and You, Why You Should Stop Now

by nettlesomeNonbinary



Series: No Good Deed [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Antitheism, Bombings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gun Violence, Homophobia, More tags to be added, Multi, Other, Racism, Slow Burn, Some more characters are humanoid than others, This is not a good first impression, Trans Characters, Transphobia, Well some characters are already in relationships, clone death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7398505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nettlesomeNonbinary/pseuds/nettlesomeNonbinary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are not heroes; none of you bother to convince yourselves otherwise. Once upon a time, you could entertain fantasies of bringing peace and justice and joy, but for now, you'll settle for fighting the monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vigilante Justice and You, Why You Should Stop Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, common sense isn't here right now! Leave a message after the hangover fades!

Your name is Alexander Brass and you resent many,  _many_ things in this moment. Whoever decided to let the godforsaken Sun into your bedroom, for example. 

"Morning, Sunshine." Two more things that you currently resent. Three, if you're counting the speaker.

"Drox, if you don't close the blinds  _right this second..."_ the lights dim to something tolerable as you are issuing death threats and you trail off.

"Plan on getting out from under that blanket some time today?" Xyr voice is a bit louder than you would prefer, but you accredit that to xyr natural lack of volume control rather than xyr casual sadism. 

"If I say yes, will you trust me not to change my mind?" You ask, lowering the blanket to peek at xem hopefully.

Xe scoffs and lowers the blanket further. "Well you didn't get sleep-in-your-binder shitfaced." Xe states appraisingly, pushing a bottle of water into your lap. "Hydrate and take some painkillers, or whatever weird shit you do when you get hung over."

 

Three bottles of water, some painkillers and a shower later, you are in your kitchen, playing the world's most cruel game of Would You Rather.

 "So, the thing is, a hangover is mostly just you being hilariously dehydrated." Drox explains, gouging a hole in a can of tomato paste. You spend a moment watching xem try to jam a straw through the hole before asking what that has to do with the coffee you aren't drinking. 

"When you're hangover dehydrated, caffeine will only make it worse." 

"It can't possibly be worse than caffeine withdrawal on top of a hang over." You groan. 

"Your funeral." Xe shrugs, stealing a few of your crackers. You shove a handful into your mouth to spite xem and almost immediately regret it. Xe mocks you the entire time xe makes your coffee.

* * *

 

Predictably, you entering your workplace wearing Drox's shades earns you both you both a round of applause, complete with cheering. The noise is tolerable now, but _~~you don't have to deal with this~~_  you are annoyed on principal.

Beside you, Drox pelvic thrusts. Hell is empty.

You aim your gaze towards the ceiling to catch the eye of whoever is on file duty today. Pamela greets you with a sympathetic grimace. 

"I can tell you right now," she comments, landing a polite distance from you, "hangovers and paperwork don't mesh well." 

 The persistence of your headache suggests that she _may_ be correct, but you are nonetheless insulted when she hands your portfolio to Drox. The second Pamela flies back to her post you attempt to grab it from xem and xe shifts it away from you, exploiting xyr height advantage.

"Don't you have your own work to do?" You demand, stepping away from xem before xe can noogie you. 

"We're doing a shared report, remember?" Xe turns to face you, more for your benefit than xyrs considering xyr compound eyes.

You did not remember.

"Of  _course_ I remembered." You snap. "Let me do my work, Droximin. _If I want your help, I will ask for it._ "

Drox raises two hands in surrender and gives you your portfolio with another. You return xyr shades and fly to your block, profoundly irritated.

You slam the portfolio open on your desk and stare blankly at the papers inside. They reflect sunlight directly into your eyes. You consider this a challenge.

After three minutes, sentences become nonsensical clusters of letters. You admit defeat and call Drox.

 

"Wow, Ace, you work _fast._ "

"Shut up, Drox."

 "You're making me look bad, Ace. I'm supposed to be three times faster than you when you're _sober_."

"I am _this close_ , Drox."

"Aiming for employee of the month? I don't think we do that." 

" _I swear. **To God**_ , Drox."

 

Hours later, during your lunch date, your torture is still not over. To your unfathomable dismay, Droximin has moved on from relentless teasing to [kazoo](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ) [serenades](https://youtu.be/WgwgQQdnp6k) in front of your favorite icecream parlor. The worst part of this mortifying experience is the fact that you can't stop laughing long enough to tell xem to quit it.

 

 

It takes you a few moments of idle conversation to notice that the table is still moving, though you've stopped laughing.

  
"Alright, stalling was fun for a while, but I think we should talk for real now." Drox states, just as a very forceful tremor knocks over xyr chair. "What? What the fuck?"

Everything is shaking now. You get to your feet as your chair topples over and attempt to brace yourself against the table. The people around you are beginning to panic and you can already hear murmuring from the parlor.

"Well, _there goes_ real-talk time." Drox grunts, crawling over to the railing.

There is a ground shaking thud and then you're on your side and everyone is screaming. Welcome back, headache.

"Get inside!" You yell, pushing yourself to your feet. "And barricade if you can!"

A child stands almost immediately, as if they were waiting for permission. Across from them is another, more panicked, child. They gently guide their companion inside and return to the door.

"Single file, please."

Predictably, the crowd does not form a neat, single file line. They're about to be trampled when they shut the door behind them.

"Why do I even bother?" They groan, outstretching a hand. There is a burst of blue light. 

As they lead the hypnotized crowd inside, you realize that you'll have to arrest them for that later and the anger you've been ignoring rekindles.

A Drox-shaped shadow drifts lower against the wall. Beside it is the shadow of something less familiar.

"Ace, we've got hands here." Droximin warns, closing a hand around your shoulder.

... _Oh_. So you do.

Hands and, more importantly, arms, gigantic, lavender and semi-transparent.

"That's a _lot_ of property damage." Drox notes, laughing nervously as a hand comes down against the railing, crushing it like tinfoil. Xe hovers in restless circles around you. "Are you feeling lucky, Ace?'

You decidedly are not; you feel like there's vanilla milkshake staining your favorite jacket. You draw anyway.

"Five of hearts." You announce blandly as the card floats expectantly in front of you. Five changes of ~~heart~~ direction before it dematerializes, but if you're gradual, you can drag it out.

"Beat you there!" Droximin chirps, darting away towards where xe assumes the caster of devastatingly powerful magic is. You step onto the card carefully, appreciating the way it doesn't shift under your weight.

You start slowly, adjusting your footing as you go. Two Droximins fly along side you, one informing you that the caster is indeed _very_ hostile. The other is loitering.

"Alpha." The loiterbug announces reluctantly.

"Just a precautionary measure." The informant reassures you. Then xe winces. " _Well, **fuck**_."

" _Fuck_." Droximin echoes, not at all reassuringly. Xe jets forward as a blur of red rushes up towards xem.

The projectile arm slams into your card, sending it spinning and you suddenly rushing downward. The informant wraps all six arms around you, swearing furiously as xe struggles to keep you both in the air.

"Sweet _bleeding **Jesus**!_ " Xe grunts, tossing you over onto a balcony and slumping over the rail after you.

You clamber unsteadily to your feet, watching as Droximin glares down at the caster. Leaning over the railing, you can see them too; broad-shouldered and dark-haired and angry, rising on a lavender arm.

 "If you don't wanna end up like your friend, I suggest you look the other way." They yell, looking up at Droximin, who smirks. 

"Jeez, you're already in trouble! Do you really need to be a _buzzkill_?"

There is exactly half a second of silence as red lights swell and Droximin regrets that pun. You draw.

Ten projectiles are summoned, six of which are deflected by your six of clubs. 

"Fuck **off**!" The caster shouts as they are pelted with their own magic.

The hastily formed clone wheezes as xe dematerializes, four times impaled, and Droximin laughs easily. 

"This is my primary, I could this all day." Xe warns.

You draw diamonds, because you would really prefer if that didn't happen. 

"You don't _have_ all day!" They bark as their ascension brings them face-to-face with Droximin. You fire.

All five projectiles land, putting burns into their leather jacket and launching them into Drox's waiting arms as their vehicle dematerializes. It reforms immediately and they _growl,_ shovingxem off roughly. Whatever biting, witty response xe has is lost as xe is swatted away. 

There is a gurgling hiss as the informant licks two of xyr hands and you throw yourself out of the way as xe lunges.

The cry of pain very briefly drowns out a faint hissing as the informant sinks xyr acid-coated claws into the caster's back. Another animalistic yell and a flash of red, and the informant dematerializes. You feel a stab of panic as red lights swell beneath your feet. 

You're caught between the urge to fly away and the urge to draw and then you are caught in the crushing grip of magic. As you're jerked towards the caster, it occurs to you that binding today may have been a bad idea, because between the binder and the gargantuan palm closed around your torso, your ribcage probably isn't in the best condition right now.

They frantically shrug off their jacket, whipping around to face you. You try to draw. Nothing happens.

Their glare is unnerving. You try to draw. Nothing happens.

They scowl and the hand closes tighter. All at once, too many pains to count- god _dammit draw draw draw draw draw-_

You draw a joker. 

An ace of spades cuts through the arm crushing you and the vehicular hand the caster is standing on, dematerializing them and sending you both plummeting.

For a second it looks like the caster is trying to spread their wings.

And then a pillar of light slams into them and they're falling even farther. You try to draw again and then everything goes blue and suddenly _you're falling **up**_

 

And then down again. You land awkwardly on your feet, immediately crumpling to the floor. Someone steps closer, looming over you.

"Are you harmed?" They ask mildly. Their dress is white and emblazoned with a cross and they are doing a very poor job of respecting your personal space.

"That person- they- they're falling..!" You sputter eloquently.

"I saw." They say calmly. Their expression is hidden behind a shoulder length veil and their tone betrays no emotion until they chuckle lightly at your shock. 

"Please remain here," they request, although it really isn't a request, "help will arrive shortly." And with that, they coast over to the railing and float steadily downwards.

You sit there compliantly, until-

" _I don't need your fucking help, you shitstains!"_ Droximin yells, furious. Xe's straddling xyr lower left arm, insisting that xe can deal with it xemself.

It hurts to move, but you lay down anyways. You _really_ don't have the energy to deal with... this.

* * *

 

At the end of the day, Droximin spends fifteen minutes swearing at anyone who tried to approach xem while a wearing cross emblem. If it means avoiding a "real talk" you will let that go unquestioned. 

The two of you agree that the activities of any children at any icecream parlors are completely irrelevant to your reports, which Drox will be filing in your absence. (You wish you could politely remind that child that what they did was mildly illegal, but that seems unlikely.)

When you come home from the hospital two days later, having had both your sprained ankles, your bruised femur, and fractured ribcage healed, your home is completely devoid of liquor and Droximin is asleep on your couch. 

"Damn freeloader." You mumble fondly, curling up beside xem. 

You dream of rusty clockwork.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I've never had a hangover? I tried, for the sake of accuracy, but Blue Moon tastes like piss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is already a goddamn trainwreck, holy shit.


End file.
